


Black Tongue

by Kittles123



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-02-06 09:47:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12814911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittles123/pseuds/Kittles123
Summary: Dreams and reunions at the Ivy Inn.  Post season 7.





	Black Tongue

**Author's Note:**

> Kinda weird/grotesque dream sequence here. This fic idea sorta came out of nowhere, and I hope you enjoy, and any feedback is so much appreciated!

Black Tongue

Bronn had found him on the Kingsroad the second night in, and Jaime had to begrudgingly admit that he was thankful for that.  Jaime was a target and he knew it; even a man who still had his sword hand could be taken by surprise.  Bandits and thieves lined the roads as more and more people flocked south to flee the winter.  Many of the groups of smallfolk were women and children, old men and little boys, as any man that could hold a sword was either dead or conscripted into the Crown’s army.  They were defenseless and ripe for the picking.

Bronn had whistled at him from a thicket of trees, just to be sure it was him, and when Jaime had seen that Podrick was with him, his first thought became Brienne.

“Where’s Brienne?” he’d asked Podrick, who himself looked more like a sellsword than a squire.

“I have not seen M’lady since I left her in the pit.”  Pod would not meet his eyes.

“Let’s talk about this later,” Bronn had said, eyeing the road warily.  A few passersby had stopped to look at them.  “The inn is just down the road… I don’t like being stopped on the road.”

 

And that was how Jaime found himself in the Ivy Inn’s common room, sharing an ale with Bronn and Podrick and hearing quite a few stories from the latter.  Pod had been at Winterfell just prior, and the situation there sounded… complicated to say the least.

“Vale knights, Northern knights, Night’s Watch, and wildings,” Jaime muttered then sipped on his ale.

“Aye… quite the crew,” Bronn said and smirked.  “How’s everyone getting along up there then?”  Bronn asked as he kicked his boots up on the bartop.  Ever the uncouth sword-for-hire, that one, and Jaime loved him for it.

“I mostly follow M’lady around… but I guess they all get on alright, most of the time.”

“What a fountain of information you are, Pod.  I knew Tyrion liked you for a reason.”  Jaime’s voice dripped with sarcasm, and Bronn gave him a sideward smirk, but Pod seemed to miss the slight entirely.

Then Jaime felt a tug in his chest, and looked into the foam that topped his mug.  They’d been over this a number of times, but Jaime had seen the look in Cersei’s eye, the recognition in the Dragonpit when Brienne had grabbed his arm.  He’d tried his best to brush her off, to marginalize her, to act as if she was nothing to him.  But he’d never been a good liar.

“And you’re sure Brienne has left the capital?” Jaime asked nonchalantly.

“Gods almighty, would you just fuck her already and spare us this rot?” Bronn growled as he slammed his empty mug on the bartop.  “Tender!  Another round!”  He turned back to Jaime.  “I mean come the fuck on.”

Jaime ground his teeth together.  Bronn irritated the shit out of him sometimes.

“You weren’t there, Bronn.  Cersei saw her, stared at her with the same look she gave Ellaria Sand.”  Jaime paused and let that sink in.

Bronn nodded and took a drink of his fresh ale.  “Alright, so here’s the way I see it.  Brienne is Sansa Stark’s sworn sword.  The Starks are allied with the Dragon Queen.  Should anything happen to your lady knight, I think they would have something to say about it.”

It was true.  Brienne had both the physical armor he’d given her and armor-by-association.  But Jaime knew Cersei… her wrath was powerful and all-consuming.  If anyone had any doubt of that, he could point them to Tyrion.  His brother had nearly died for a murder he did not commit.

But Jaime just bobbed his head, conceding the point.  He decided it was easier to believe that what Bronn said was true than to ponder the alternatives.  But Jaime would not leave the Crownlands until he heard word that Brienne was safe, and if he heard word otherwise....  _ Well, if it comes to that, then I know what I have to do. _  His lone hand gripped his mug as if he were gripping Widow’s Wail.

“I will not ride north until I hear news of M’lady,” Pod piped up with a resolute slam of his mug on the bartop.  The lad was drunk already.  “I will not leave here without her.”

“Good squire, this one,” Bronn said and slapped him on the back.  Pod nearly fell off his stool.

After a time, Bronn and Pod began to play dice with the bartender and Jaime bid them goodnight and retired to the room upstairs that all three of them would be sharing.  The eastward-facing room was small and warm, and Jaime shed his traveling clothes with appreciation.  He had not slept on the ground outside without a tent in years, perhaps since he and Brienne had made their way to King’s Landing or in the sands of Dorne.  He’d decided he would leave the bed for either Pod or Bronn, so he took a spot a few feet from the fire and laid out his sleeping roll.  He could hear a fiddler strike up a tune downstairs in the common room, and occasionally he thought he heard Bronn’s sharp, cracking laugh.  With warmth and a full belly, Jaime soon fell asleep.

 

_ Cersei’s fingers ran through his hair.  He opened his eyes and saw her face looming above him.  She’d once looked beautiful and pure to him, but now all he could see was the anger and hatred in her eyes.  He was lying on a table deep in the Red Keep, Cersei on his left and Qyburn on his right.  He could feel someone else’s presence as well, but could not see them. _

_ “My sweet brother, my lover,” Cersei cooed and stroked his face.  “You are so brave and gallant in all that you have done for me.”  Cersei leaned down to kiss him and he squinted his eyes closed.  As her lips touched his, he felt Qyburn remove his golden hand, leaving his stump exposed. _

_ “Drink this, Ser Jaime,” Qyburn said and held a flask to his lips.  “You deferred the milk of the poppy at Harrenhal, but now you are safe in the trusted hands of your sister.  Drink, it will make it better.” _

_ Jaime tried to purse his lips but Cersei forced the flask in and squeezed it so hard that he sputtered on the liquid. _

_ Shortly, his head swam and the room spun and he could feel a searing pain in his stump but the medicine made it so he did not care.  He saw the glint of steel in Qyburn’s hand, hot  and dripping with blood. _

_ “I’m ready,” Qyburn called out sharply, hungrily. _

_ “It’s almost over, my love,” Cersei whispered in his ear, but he turned his face away from her and looked to his right and that was when he noticed another table next to him with a body strapped to it.  Tall and muscled, and when he saw her doe-like eyes his heart shattered in his chest.  She looked pallid and gaunt with her shockingly blonde hair plastered to her sweaty skin. _

_ “No!” Jaime screamed and bucked at his restraints so much that Qyburn’s grandfatherly face shifted to a furrowed brow. _

_ “He must remain calm, my Queen,” he said as he began to do something to Jaime’s stump.  Then Qyburn began to mutter words in a tongue Jaime had never heard.  The language sounded monotone and almost like a chant and then Jaime saw the old man’s mouth.  His lips and tongue had turned black and dark smoke rolled out with every word. _

_ “It’s the Black Tongue of Asshai,” Cersei whispered, and her voice sounded excited with a snap of pleasure to it.  “He will give you a new sword hand, and then you will be whole again.  You will be my Jaime again.” _

_ “Brienne, no.” Jaime realized what was about to happen. _

_ “It’s alright, Ser Jaime.  I don’t need it anymore.”  Brienne spoke to him softly, and her voice sounded like his mother’s voice, calm and sure. _

_ “You need your sword hand…” Jaime began, but then he took in her full body and his stomach lurched.  Her legs were gone as well as her left arm up to the shoulder.  Thick black stitches closed the wounds at the end, and the flesh was purple and bloated.  He felt tears pick at the corners of his eyes and he shook his head in agony.  No, no, no… _

_ “Don’t worry, Ser Jaime.  She told me she would not want anyone to have her sword hand but you.” _

_ Then Qyburn’s hot blade cut through Brienne’s forearm and she locked eyes with him and Jaime screamed. _

 

Jaime woke sitting up on his bed roll, tears streaming down his face and heart pounding in his chest.  It took him a moment to realize he’d been dreaming and it was only then that he was able to take a few deep breathes.

“The fuck is going on in here?” Bronn said as he barged through the door.  Bronn met his eyes and surely saw the redness in them, the puffiness.  “You alright?” he asked quietly.

“Yes,” Jaime said and as he rubbed his stump.

“Huh, alright then,” Bronn said as he watched Jaime’s left hand work at the scarred flesh.  “Anyway, me and Pod bumped into someone downstairs. I figured you want to know.”

Jaime’s throat was suddenly dry and he swallowed to try to get control of his voice before he spoke, and when he opened his mouth to say something, Bronn interrupted.

“Of course it’s her, and she’s not alone, though I can tell you're the one she is looking for.”

“The Hound?” he asked.  It was the only person he could think of that she would be with.

“Aye, but they’re riding together on need more than want.  Either way, I won’t mind having him in our party as we ride north.  Biggest man I’ve ever seen, barring his brother.

Jaime had all but stopped listening as he ran his hand through his hair and stood up.  He straightened his shirt and pulled on his riding boots before following Bronn downstairs to the common room.  Bronn smirked as he led the way, enjoying this entirely too much, but Jaime forgot everything once he stepped into the warm, music-filled room and met her eyes.

Strong and warm and blue, and she was blessedly whole and unharmed contrary to what had happened in his dream.  Everything melted away as he strode across the room and embraced her roughly, and at first she reciprocated as if they were nothing but brothers-in-arms, reunited after battle.

Then he felt her face turn into his neck and a hot tear touch his cheek and he pulled her closer and pushed his hand up her back, across the nape of her neck and into her short, blonde hair.

“Brienne,” he breathed   _ I’m sorry, I’m here, I love you. _  So many things to say, but he couldn’t do it now.

She pulled away from him, but not far.  She still stood close enough to let her arm drift off his shoulder and to let her hand to come to rest on his chest.

“I was worried about you,” she said with hitched breath.

He did not know what to say to that and his hand was drifting along her jaw, as if it had a mind of its own.  The scar in her upper lip caught in the firelight and he dragged the pad of his thumb down it until she shuddered against him.  He’d thought she’d gotten the scar sparring or in a tournament, but eventually she’d told him the story of when she and her brother had gone rock diving and she'd ended up splitting her lip open in the surf. Her septa had been displeased to say the least.

Now all he wanted to do was kiss her, to take her trembling body against his own and show her pleasure, to make her moan his name as her legs wrapped around him.  She looked at him wide-eyed and her face was one of a scared maiden but her body stood tall and strong.

“I was worried about you too,” Jaime finally said and hugged her close one more time, letting his lips tentatively brush her ear as he did so.  It was as much as he could do in public, and it was more than they had ever done before, and when she pulled back, a deep red blush was creeping up her neck and she had to purse her lips to keep from smiling.

“Come, let’s have a drink.  You need some good company after traveling with a Clegane.”

“He’s quite good company, actually,” Brienne replied, taking on her antagonistic persona he loved so much.  “Perhaps my favorite traveling companion thus far.”

“Oh really?” Jaime said and let his hand slide to the small of her back as they waded their way through the crowd and back to the bar.  “I’ll have to remedy that.”


End file.
